


Arc Words

by morthael



Category: Neon Genesis Evangelion
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Humor, M/M, Spoilers for Eva manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-02
Updated: 2013-06-02
Packaged: 2017-12-13 18:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/827350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morthael/pseuds/morthael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for the final chapter of Eva manga! Shinji made a promise to...never mind, he doesn't remember what he promised to do. And there's a strange silver haired boy following him around, seemingly unaffected by the cold. Why isn't he cold?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arc Words

**Author's Note:**

> THIS WAS MEANT TO BE FLUFFY I SWEAR GODDAMNIT WHY CAN'T I JUST WRITE FLUFF
> 
> I read the last chapter of the manga and died a little inside, so here is some kawoshin to revive me again god I swear I felt so sorry for Karl (but here is me throwing shitty things at him, so huh...I'm pretty cruel.)

Shinji doesn’t know when he first started noticing, but there’s a pretty silver haired boy who has been following him, darting through crowded train stations and mysteriously disappearing when he reaches the surface.

He thinks: maybe a day, or two, or three. The other boy tries to be surreptitious, but his pale hair and complexion is strikingly noticeable, and Shinji is weirdly, instinctively good at spotting oddities.

He finds himself grabbing at the front of his thick jacket, as if trying to reach through to his heart. Yes, it’s weird. Shinji can’t explain it, the feel of empty aching when he stares across the old city, the creeping sensation that tickles at the back of his mind when he looks at the frozen statues. He catches himself gazing at the pale snow sometimes, and it tugs at his memories, making him think of...a girl?

Ridiculous.

Shinji loosens his hold on his jacket, ducking his head back down and continuing towards the stairs. His aunt reprimands him sometimes, things like when he zones out completely and ignores anything happening around him. She tells him that he’d be the prime victim for some dangerous criminal, saying – _yes, these things happen, even in a harmonious society like this – !_

He can’t explain it.

He feels like there’s an empty jigsaw piece, something floating in the air just beyond his grasp, and he finds himself crying sometimes, for no reason other than the mixture of feeling loss but not knowing what it is.

Out of the corner of his eye, Shinji sees a head of silver hair zip behind a column, and smiles. He can’t tell because of the distance, but he thinks the other boy might be around his age, and wonders why he’s following him, and –

– doesn’t he feel cold?

 The other boy looks tall and skinny, and the only thing he seems to wear is a white short sleeved shirt and black pants, and Shinji _thinks_ it’s his school uniform, but he’s never seen another student with silver hair and so he concludes that his eyes are just playing tricks on him.

When Shinji turns around again, there’s no trace of white hair, short sleeves, long pants. Shaking his head, he turns back up the stairs, shivering when cold air washes over him.

*

He brings an extra jacket the next day.

Shinji hasn’t tried to confront the silver haired boy before. He thinks it’s built into him, the desire to stay out of conflict, avoid situations. Maybe it’s why he has few friends. Maybe it’s why the red haired girl the other day brushed him off and disappeared into the crowd.

He shakes his head. Now’s not the time – he’s already decided, and besides, it’s disturbing...almost as much as it’s flattering. His heart’s already rocketing around behind his ribcage.

Shinji catches a glint of pale hair and sucks in a breath, pushing off the wall and walking purposefully close to the columns. He shifts inwards as soon as he’s past one, and darts around, back pressed against the cool marble slab.

He tries to slow down his breathing, guessing in his head how long it would take the other boy to reach his pillar – then he moves, slipping around the other side, doubling back with his head ducked low.

Silver hair flashes by on the other side, and Shinji breathes out, smiling. He hasn’t noticed yet.

Now he moves decisively, circling around the pillar, eyes on the tall figure striding ahead of him.

He takes a moment just to look. The boy’s as skinny as Shinji guessed, his limbs moving with an awkwardness of someone just growing into a new height. His hair is freshly pale, messy as if tossed around by the wind, fluffy as if...recently dried.

_...what?_

Shinji puts a lid on errant thoughts and hurries forward, adopting a casual expression as he drops into step with the other boy. His hands play somewhat nervously at the fabric of the jacket he’s clutching.

“Hey,” he says as neutrally as he can. “Care to explain why you’ve been following me around?”

_God, that wasn’t nonchalant at all._

The boy jumps about a foot into the air and stumbles upon collision with the ground again. “Whu – ah, I – !” he splutters, and casts around as if looking for an escape route.

Shinji shifts. “It’s not like I’m upset or anything –“

“Er –“

“ – well, I kind of am, but I’m more curious, so, uh...”

“Hi, Shinji! Hi!”

Shinji stops in his tracks, staring up at the other boy’s – are those eyes _red? –_ face. He backtracks quickly. “Uh...do I know you?” he says hesitantly.

The other boy is _vibrating_ anxiously in front of him, hands wringing together and face a mixture of embarrassment, surprise, and...weird elation?

“I, um, _Shinji, you’re talking to me!_ ” he practically shouts, and Shinji winces. No one turns around to stare, though, so he counts himself lucky.

 _Actually,_ lucky _might be a strange way of describing it, considering I have absolutely no idea who this guy is..._

“Well, yeah, I kind of wanted to know why you’re following me,” he says pointedly, and the other boy just stares anxiously.

An awkward silence descends, the one that Shinji knows (and hates the fact that) he’ll do anything to get out of.

“Aren’t you cold?” he blurts out, and suddenly feels very, very embarrassed at the second jacket in his hands.

“Uh...well, I wasn’t before, but now that you mention it...?” the silver haired boy’s eyes widen when he sees the jacket. “Is that for _me?_ ”

Shinji thrusts it at him, flustered at the big commotion, and watches the other boy fumble awkwardly through the sleeves. When he’s done, though, he turns around with the most dazzling beam Shinji’s ever seen. He flings his arms open, as if to hug him, but pulls back at the last second, into some kind of ill-at-ease arms crossing.

“Thank you, Shinji-kun!” he tries to laugh it off, but Shinji’s regained himself by now and pins him down with a stare.

“Who _are_ you?” he says, and the other boy freezes mid laugh, eyes flickering.

“You don’t...remember me?” he breathes, and Shinji shakes his head, _no,_ about to mutter some irritable comment –

The boy flees, and Shinji has time for the stabbing thought that _do I know him?_ Should _I know him?_ to register through him before pale hair is lost in the crowd, swept away by the morning traffic.

*

When Kaworu woke up, he thought: _I woke up._

Then, his second thought was: _Shinji let me wake up._

Even reflecting back on it, the thought is enough to keep him warm and happy, and so when he first sees Shinji at the train station his first instinct is to rush over and tackle him and maybe even say _sorry,_ but...

He remembers. A hand wrapped around his wrist, tugging him away. _“Let go of me...please.”_

_“I don’t like you. I don’t need friends.”_

And so Kaworu is a reeling mess of Strange Lilim Emotions, and the only thought that careens through him is that he should _stay away_ even if Shinji thought enough of him to bring him back.

And he should never touch a cat again.

It’s what keeps him, shivering slightly in his school uniform, following Shinji around like a stray, dodging behind people so he doesn’t notice him, staring guiltily when he forgets to dodge.

Except – he wasn’t expecting _Shinji_ to sneak up behind him, startling him enough to make him fly into the air – literally flying for a second, his Angel instincts were difficult to ignore at times – and he gabbled out the only things he knew to say and prayed that he wasn’t making Shinji angry. Again.

 Only, Shinji is _nice_ and Kaworu’s so touched that he barely registers his question until it’s a second out of his mouth and –

For the second time in his short lived life, Kaworu feels heat behind his eyes and struggles vainly against Strange Lilim Emotions that he can’t help but have. He slides back against a pillar, clutching the jacket around him.

_“Promise you won’t forget me. Crush me with your own hands, so you’ll never forget me.”_

Kaworu shivers uncontrollably. Shinji forgot.

*

Shinji doesn’t see pretty silver haired boys for a week, and something inside of him twinges for that fact. He ends up talking to the ticket seller, describing the boy’s appearance to him and asking if he remembers anyone like that. The man at the booth says no.

Then, on the eighth day, in the afternoon, Shinji steps out of the carriage door and when the crowd clears in front of him, he sees _him,_ sitting on a bench, knees pulled up and jacket wound tightly around him.

Shinji doesn’t know why he feels unreasonably happy at this, but he’s in a good enough mood that he purposefully walks in a wide arc beyond the other boy’s vision, coming up behind him and pressing his palms over his eyes.

The boy jerks and tries to move his head, but Shinji stays firm and he gives up, instead tilting his chin upwards a bit. Strands of pale hair tickle at his fingers and he tries to ignore how... _fluffy_ it is against his skin.

“Who is it?” the pale haired boy asks, and Shinji presses his lips together.

“Do I have to guess?” he sighs after a moment of silence, and Shinji uses his hands to bob the boy’s face up and down, indicating the affirmative.

“Shinji-kun, it’s you.”

Reluctantly, Shinji drops his hands, and the other boy twists around on the bench, red eyes glowing happily.

“Now _you_ have to tell me who you are,” he mutters, tucking his hands back into his pockets.

The boy looks entirely too cheerful as he answers. “Kaworu, Nagisa Kaworu,” he says, the words tumbling over themselves breathlessly as he grips the backrest of the bench. The words register sharply within Shinji, and that sudden ache of _not knowing_ is pushed up a notch, so hard that he physically falters, breath driven out of him.

He sees – Kaworu, was it? – leap over the seat, hands coming up to support him, then flinching back, refraining. He reaches forward, instead, seizing the lapels of Kaworu’s jacket, pulling.

“What is _wrong_ with me?” Shinji hisses through clenched teeth, and Kaworu’s hands are still hovering, as if afraid to touch. “Why can’t I remember...I don’t even remember what I can’t remember... _tell me!_ ”

Kaworu doesn’t answer, so Shinji slowly unclenches his fingers and smooths out the fabric, retracting and pulling away, turning to leave – and then the other boy lunges forward, grabbing him by the collar, pulling him back.

It’s achingly familiar, and Shinji can tell the motion is familiar to Kaworu, too, from the draining of the blood from his face, the slightly trembling arms.

“Say something,” Shinji says, wrapping his hand around a slim wrist, clenching tight. “Don’t ignore me.”

“I...is it alright for me to touch you?”

Shinji feels like he’ll fall over if Kaworu moves away. “Yes...”

He hears a quick intake of breath. “You...you don’t want me to let go or anything?”

“No...”

Shinji can’t help but be surprised when Kaworu abruptly lets go and flings himself around him, and he gets a brief scent of soap before there is _hair in his face_ and he’s staggering under the weight of another body above him.

Because Kaworu seems intent on hugging the life out of him, Shinji doesn’t think he realises that they’re both going to fall over if Shinji can’t support them, and something clicks and he spits out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Nagisa, _get off me before I bust all of your teeth out!_ ”

The speed in which Kaworu jumps away is fascinating. Shinji notes his dumbstruck expression with a touch of smugness. “Sorry. We were going to fall over.”

Kaworu’s face seems to be teetering on the edge of bursting with happiness and collapsing in fear. Shinji’s about to feel the _tiniest_ bit sorry for him when...something _shifts,_ and he staggers to the side, clutching at his head.

He remembers another hand, another time, gripping him by his sleeve, shouting in his ear. He remembers flat rejection, the hand slipping away.

Then, two more hands, giant ones, _squeezing –_

Kaworu is holding him again, supporting him, and Shinji can see the liquid concern in red eyes –

– those statues, they’re _MP Evas –_

His voice is fuzzy and distant, like he’s shouting from faraway, or hell, over the roaring of an incoming train, and Shinji looks dizzily up –

– that girl was _Asuka –_

Shinji straightens and pushes Kaworu off, staring him down and watching him fidget nervously. Two sides of him war against each other – first:

 _How the fuck did I think he was a_ pretty _silver haired boy?!_

And then:

_Why the fuck was he following me around like a lost puppy?!_

Shinji draws a deep breath.

“ _Nagisa, you asshole!”_ he howls, and punches him in the face.

*

“I’m sorry,” Kaworu says, and even that’s a whine, with him shrinking back a bit as Shinji glares at him. He pulls the unresisting boy’s hand and they both cross over the threshold.

“ _Now_ you say you’re sorry,” Shinji hisses, jabbing a finger at him. “You made me kill you!”

“And that was a mistake. I said I’m sorry, Shinji-kun...”

“You’re not sorry at all.”

Shinji kicks off his shoes and waits pointedly until Kaworu does the same, and then pushes him into the living room. There, he deposits him, and stalks into the kitchen, banging around trying to find some teacups.

When he returns, boiling tea and a kettle in his hands, Kaworu is sitting at the table – or rather, slumped, his head buried in his arms.

“Get up,” says Shinji. “Have some tea.”

And when Kaworu _does_ raise his head, there are glimmers of wet in his eyes, his silver hair is rumpled, and his breathing is shaky. Shinji feels a twinge of guilt and is startled to see that reflected in the other boy’s eyes, but before he can start ruminating on whether or not Kaworu is _really_ sorry or not he plonks the kettle and cups down on the table, and takes a seat himself.

 _Maybe I’m developing a split personality,_ Shinji thinks glumly to himself as he pushes a cup in front of Kaworu. Certainly, he _remembers_ things now – his father, the Evas, Angels, _oh, that’s why Touji’s not here,_ fuck! _–_ and he can certainly justify punching Kaworu in the face and never speaking to him again.

But then... _why the hell did I bring him back to this apartment? Aunt will be back any moment._

He can hardly admit it to himself, but...the pieces didn’t fall into place. Kaworu could have approached him at any time...but he didn’t. He could have forced himself into Shinji’s personal space...but he didn’t. He could have touched him, _but he refrained..._ until Shinji had allowed him.

Shinji lets out something between a groan and a sigh and wishes Kaworu would stop looking so _god damned_ rumpled and sad, tufts of hair sticking up at odd angles everywhere.

“I won’t forgive you if you don’t drink your tea,” he says threateningly, and watches in satisfaction as Kaworu hurriedly sips at it. He’s being unreasonably cruel, and he knows it, but who wouldn’t, having to put up with what Kaworu put him through –

He irritably shoves the angry part of himself aside, twisting his hands into fists. _What’s happening to me?_   _I was never this angry before..._

 _No,_ Shinji realises, _that’s exactly it._

He’s always been angry, and it’s only been in this brief amount of time after the Impact that he’s been happy, maybe not hopeful, but content, without lingering frustration or sarcastic vitriol...and now, it’s come back because of Kaworu.

“Kaworu, why did you return?” Shinji asks softly.

“Because...because you wished for me to return,” Kaworu replies, and looks away. “Although I see that decision was made hastily, it was a – a mistake for me to –“

“No.”

Shinji looks Kaworu dead in the eye. “I made that decision consciously. It’s not your fault – at least, it’s not your fault that you came back.”

Kaworu’s face brightens suddenly in a way that makes Shinji’s insides twist, and he breaks the eye contact, feeling a flush rising in his cheeks.

“Shinji-kun,” Kaworu breathes, alight with happiness. “I...thank you, I –“

“Everything’s in the past now, isn’t it?” Shinji says. “The Evas. The Angels – well, except for you. Does it – does that even matter anymore?”

Kaworu shakes his head vehemently.

“Then let’s start again,” Shinji says, his pulse picking up a little. “Let’s...redo this again.”

Kaworu smiles, and his hands inch forwards, not quite grasping at Shinji’s own. “No, not ‘redo’,” he says quietly. “To redo means to fight again. I...I would like to turn a new leaf, as the Lilim say.”

He closes his eyes for a second, and when they open again they’re almost glowing with intensity. “I would like...”

The glowing flickers, and hesitance creeps into Kaworu’s tone. The next sentence is almost a whisper. “I would like trying to be friends again...”

Shinji wonders if this is still the same Kaworu from before, thick headed and childish, pushy and annoying, as he stretches out, linking their fingers together.

“Fine,” he says agreeably, and then pulls, dragging a startled Kaworu closer and burying his fingers into already messy silver hair.

Kaworu’s eyes are wide and his mouth slightly agape as Shinji pulls him closer, closer until their foreheads are touching, and their mouths are nearing...

Abruptly, Shinji lets go, pulling back and leaving Kaworu strung in the air, eyes blinking rapidly, a small, disappointed sound emanating from his throat.

“Just kidding,” Shinji says, and drinks his tea. “I just wanted to know what your hair feels like.”

Kaworu sighs, sinking back down, unable to do anything for fear of angering Shinji. “I guess this is what love is like,” he mumbles.

At least Shinji doesn’t hate him this time, he thinks, and so he is startled when the aforementioned boy tilts his head up and _really_ kisses him.       


End file.
